I am the black border, the anger, the disgust and so many more

On Tuesday, 22 July 2014, the Dutch writer and poet Theodor Holman published his daily column in the Dutch newspaper Het Parool. This time he wrote an impressive poem about the immense emotional impact the shooting down of passenger flight MH117 in Ukraine and subsequent death of all passengers and crew had on him.

The poem is called Ik ben de rouwrand, de woede, de afschuw en nog zo veel meer. This translates in English as I am the black border, the anger, the disgust and so many more. This poem deserves to be read by the international public. With kind permission of the author I translated this poem into English. I present his poem now on the National Day of Mourning in The Netherlands which has been declared by the Dutch government.

I am the peasant who saw bodies falling out of the sky.

And I, I got two corpses on my roof.

I am the body that fell down in sunflowers.

And I am a rebel, what do you mean I made a mistake?

I am a missile, I wish I knew how to be ashamed.

I am a soldier, a friend of him over there, we are not to blame.

I am their enemy, but I know nothing.

I am president, I express sympathy.

I am president as well and I express sympathy too.

I am a diplomat, you can phone the president now.

I have come to collect the dead. Why can’t I?

I am Death. I think I’ll carry on.

I want to bring home the dead. Why can’t I?

I am an officer – count all my stripes – and I tell you: stop!

I am the train, I’ll wait a while.

I am the engine driver, I never carried freight bizarre as this.

I am a sunflower and I rest broken.

I am the landscape and they have hurt me.

I am the airplane or a dead bird, whatever you want.

I am the telephone; they don’t listen here.

I am a garbage bag. What on earth was it they put in me here?

I am a little pole with a patch of white cotton.

I am a cuddly bear. I am a booklet.

I am a shoe, she is a purse and he is a T-shirt.

I am the consultation, I offer you all cooperation.

I am prime minister, where are my velvet gloves?

I am the lie, I am doing well today, again.

I am pathologist, I would like to get in.

I am a freedom fighter, so you must do as I tell you.

I am a black box.

I am the future; where do I store the talents wasted?

I am the talent wasted, I weep the loudest of all.

I am the black border, I am sorry.

I am disgust, I feel big and strong.

I am anger, just as big and strong.

I am a teardrop – but much more than that.

I am grief – but much more than that.

I am looking for a word, words, a meaning.